


Preference

by drosophilase



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M, Strangers Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1452577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drosophilase/pseuds/drosophilase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris signs up for a psychology short film project that asks strangers to kiss for the first time on camera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preference

The dim of the spacious rented studio is disorienting after the brightness of the afternoon sunlight, and Chris takes off his sunglasses quickly, blinking rapidly to adjust.  The room comes into focus in spots and splotches and he can see the makeshift backdrop and standard lighting, the single mounted camera and the small crew that is working to set it all up.

A girl with a clipboard and a nose ring approaches him.  “You here for the short film?” she asks, and Chris nods.

“Yeah, Laura recruited me?” Chris replies, unsure of himself under her flat stare.

“Laura’s over there,” nose ring girl says, pointing towards the filming set-up.  “She’s directing. I’m coordinating subjects.  Fill this out.”  She pushes the clipboard into Chris’s hands.

He dutifully fills out his name and signs away liability, skimming over the agreement there.  He fills in his gender on the blank line, freezing when he gets to the bottom of the page.  The check boxes there send a hot wave of uncertainty through him and he looks up furtively, but the girl with the nose ring is already talking to two giggly girls that just walked in.  He swallows thickly as he stares at the preference question again, pen poised.

_[  ] genders similar to me_

_[  ] genders different to me_

_[  ] no preference_

The language is a little foreign to him, but then so are the concepts of gender and sexuality as a whole-- Chris has already found he was missing a whole education on the subject.  Attending college in LA was eye-opening in every single way, not the least being living away from his parents in a big city that didn’t have the time or patience to care about how Chris’s existence could be defiant of a higher power.  First semester, Chris had taken sociology and psychology on the idea that it would help to write more depth of character.  The concepts and explanations were endlessly intriguing to Chris and he found himself signing up for more classes and eventually adding a psychology minor to his degree.  Laura is in his life span development class, and between her usual crusade to get Chris to sign up for gender studies classes, she had asked him what he was doing later (Chris didn’t have to say “nothing,” because she already knew) and scrawled down the address.

He only blinks once, exhales steadily and marks the box for similar genders, handing the clipboard back over.  He watches her skim the form, looking for some kind of reaction, but she only points at the chairs lined up on the opposite side of the room and walks away without a word.

Things are easier here.  Chris knew who he was, had come to terms with it himself back when he was a freshman in high school, and thought that was enough.  But being out, the full and total kind of out, where he could stop thinking about everything he said and everywhere he _looked_ and just be himself always-- that was something he still wore like an ill-fitting sweater, something he couldn’t quite get to settle over his skin even after two years.  That first coming out, to his self-proclaimed soul surfer dorm roommate who tried to get him to a party by insisting that the girls were hot, had felt like the world was going to swallow him whole if the heat on his face didn’t combust him first.  An easy shrug, a single bat of eyelashes, and a simple amendment that the guys were good-looking too, that was balm to Chris’s 18-year-battered soul.  Every coming out got easier, every casual affirmation to everyone around him and to himself putting a tiny thrum of hope in his heart that said he was good enough, just the way he is.

Chris settles into an empty chair and watches the student crew adjusting lights and camera angles, fascinated.  He had wanted to be a professional actor so badly as a kid, can still remember the sets from the few times he had gotten work.  Living in LA now, he still has an agent and does a few auditions a month, but nothing outside of extra work has fallen in his lap yet.  It doesn’t feel like a chapter closed, just more like an option on the back burner.  He’s been getting in closer to the theatre kids this year, so maybe he can convince some of them that Shirley Todd is due for a revival.

While he waits, he sneaks sidelong glances at the young people sitting around him who must be study subjects as well.  They’re all about college age, though a few people look older.  Then again, Chris doesn’t feel like he’s a great judge of age when his own face was reading “barely a tween” until six months ago.  Most of them are playing with their phones or reading books or typing rapidly on laptops, and Chris doesn’t linger too long on the guys in the room.  Expectations are dangerous he knows, learned that the first time his friends took him out to a gay club and he’d been shocked at the crassness there.

They start calling couples and Chris resolutely does not watch the process, even though it would only take a single glance up from the phone game he’s playing.  He can’t concentrate on school or his own personal writing when he’s putting every ounce of attention into staring at rows of candy and shallowly breathing through the pounding of his heart.

He doesn’t have to wait long. There can’t be more than a dozen couples to be made out of the group, and he’s called in the third one.

“Chris? Darren?” nose ring girl says, sounding as bored as ever.  Chris pockets his phone and stands up on unsteady legs.  The adrenaline that was making his blood tingle in his fingertips sends it all straight to the soles of his feet.  He steps up to nose ring girl, but no one else does.

“Darren?” she calls again, flipping pages of her clipboard with irritation.  Chris is totally mortified, completely exposed and _humiliated--_

“I’m here!” a voice calls behind him, bouncing off the rafters.  “I’m here, sorry.  Had my headphones in like an asshole.”

Chris moves automatically as the guy-- it’s a _guy,_ he hadn’t even wanted to hope, but it is and now he’s hot all over with anticipation of kissing this very cute, very _male_ guy-- steps up beside him.

“Come with me,” nose ring girl says flatly, and Chris falls into step with Darren behind her.  Chris keeps sneaking glances (black cardigan, bright colored jeans, even brighter socks, scuffed-up oxford shoes, riotously curly hair down past his ears) and trying to quickly catch up with the fact that this is actually happening in practice and not just the neatly packaged expectation in his head.

He had wanted to be an actor for years. Still maybe does. He can totally do this.

Laura’s standing at the edge of the white paper that denotes the set, and she squeezes Chris’s forearm in greeting before directing them to the black X drawn at the center.

Chris immediately feels subconscious under the hot lights and the flat black glare of the camera.  This is not like acting at all.  There’s no role to play here, no script he can follow along with, no expectations to meet.  This is just Chris and… Darren.

He takes a deep breath and turns to find Darren is already facing him, hands loose at his sides.

“I’m Darren,” he says, putting out his right hand.  Chris takes it automatically, shaking it twice.

“Chris,” he answers, and as he lets Darren’s hand fall out of his, Darren takes a tiny step forward.

“So what do you… do?” Chris asks, trying to remember all the usual small talk questions of meeting someone.  It’s hard when Darren is smiling and talking and licking the lips that Chris is expected to kiss.

“Acting, fairly unsuccessfully,” he says, and the self-deprecation is easy on his tongue, falls airily with his own comfortness of self.  “I play piano at some bars, a weekly coffee house gig on guitar.  Compose music for my friends. Whatever other odd jobs to pay the bills.”

Chris nods a little, puts those pieces together with what he sees in front of him.  Looks at Darren’s hands.

“What do you do?” Darren asks back, a little lilt of imitation in his voice, one hand coming to brush hair behind his ear like he knew Chris was looking.  Chris follows the movement, ends up staring at his eyes.

“Student at UCLA,” Chris answers, not sure how much to tell.

“Studying...?” Darren prompts.  He’s even closer now.

“Writing, some creative and some script, against everyone’s well-meaning criticism,” Chris says, the bitterness in his voice not quite believable as a joke.

“Even your own?”

That makes Chris really think, all semblance of smile fading.  “No, this is what I want to do,” he says quietly, truthfully.

Darren nods solemnly, curls bouncing, and immediately brightens up again.  “Anything else you need to know?  Middle name?”

Chris laughs in a burst of shock and nervousness, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth.  He’d always thought it was just a figure of speech, but Darren’s eyes are _twinkling_ , honest to god.

“Paul,” Chris tells him, shoulders still shaking as he tries to stifle his laughter.

“Everett,” Darren smiles, so close that Chris can see the sparse freckles on his nose and the innumerable thick eyelashes that sweep his cheeks.  There’s a touch at the inside of Chris’s wrist, and he doesn’t flinch away.  “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes,” Chris says, half-whispers as he already starts to tilt and fall into Darren like his body has been pulling for.  A split-second glance of Darren’s parted lips before his eyes slip shut, and his own mouth falls open in mirror.

Their lips touch softly, and every uncertainty Chris had leaves in the exhale of Darren’s breath over his skin.  Blindly he fumbles to touch, finds Darren’s shoulder and holds tight.  He sways on his feet as Darren presses closer, a deep hum in the back of his throat that Chris can feel in his teeth.

The touch at his wrist disappears, air too cool to his overheated skin. Chris pulls back, blinking hard, pulse rapid as he takes in Darren’s spit-slick red lips, the crease between his eyebrows.  Chris looks automatically to movement on his left side-- Darren has one hand half-extended in the air.  His fingers flex, and then it falls to cup Chris’s ear, spanning from jaw to nape of his neck..

“Oh,” Chris says, shivering at the gentle, stroking touch of Darren’s thumb.

“Your ears are bright red,” Darren says, his smile slower, warmer.  Just for Chris. “It’s so cute.”

Someone that is not Darren says something, but Chris doesn’t comprehend a word.  He squeezes Darren’s shoulder then lower on his arm to tug him closer, smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he watches Darren eagerly tilt his chin up to match.

He knows what to do now, all apprehension gone and just the feeling of Darren’s firm muscle under his fingers and warm, slick mouth on his lips.  With a minute press of fingers under his jaw Chris tilts his head more, opens up at the sweetness of Darren’s gentle sucking pressure.  A tentative touch of what must be Darren’s tongue and Chris’s jaw falls even further, pushing and pulling and letting Darren in, clinging to him like he would float away without skin and bone to ground him.

The kiss slows, Darren’s thumb brushing softly over the shell of his ear as their lips press together longer.  Another hand frames the other side of Chris’s face as a dozen little kisses are dropped to his mouth, lighter and lighter until gone completely.  Chris blinks slowly, taking in Darren’s pretty smile first, then the white of the dropcloth and the line of unfocused faces staring their way.

His heart pounds in his chest.  “So,” Chris says, realizing too late that he had been far too hung up on the act of kissing and not what should happen _after_.

Darren laughs, head thrown back and curls bouncing as his eyes squint and face scrunches.  His hands fall from Chris’s jaw to brush his wrists, not letting Chris get far as he huffs a little, laughing in spite of himself because Darren’s is _infectious_ , loud and bright.

“I hope that was _with_ me, not at me,” Chris says dryly, mouth twisting into a smile when Darren calms down enough to just beam at him.

Darren darts back in to kiss him again and he freezes, hands raising in shock.  It’s over as soon as he realizes it’s happening.

“You are something else,” Darren says, low and warm and rumbly, making Chris get all twisted up deep in his belly.

“That’s good guys,” a voice cuts in, makes Chris and Darren both turn.  Chris nods at Laura and walks away from the camera without looking up, feeling off and shaky, stomach tied in knots.

Nose ring girl is calling the next couple-- a girl and a guy who smile nervously at each other-- and Chris barely glances at them before throwing his whole weight against the door.  The balmy LA evening doesn’t clear his mind, but he feels like he can relax now that he’s not being stared at.

He takes measured breaths, tilts his head up to look at the orange-streaked sky.  He would have been a really shitty actor if one pretty smile and set of talented lips can mess with his head like this.

The door opens again, and Chris looks up automatically-- it’s Darren. Of course.  He looks frantically in the opposite direction but Chris says nothing, watches Darren’s face relax in relief when he spots him.

“Chris! Hey. I thought you left,” he says, smiling and sounding a little breathless.

Chris shrugs.  “That’s it, right?  We signed, we kissed, we leave.  That’s it.”

Darren’s smile falters just for a second but he comes closer anyways, fingers tucked into his jean pockets.  “Actually, I was hoping... that it wouldn’t be?”

He can’t stop the doubtful scoff that scrapes the back of his throat.  “You don’t even know me.”

“Hey, once upon a time people got married without even knowing each other.  No reason we can’t work backwards from the kiss.  Which was _very_ nice by the way. Very nice.”

Chris smiles, can’t _help_ it, and Darren is so smug and though Chris knows he’s going to let him win, it won’t be that easily.

“Really?  Hmm,” Chris says, raising his eyebrows skeptically.  “I don’t know about that.”

It’s total bullshit because Chris has barely kissed anyone, and most of them were playground pretend marriages or spin-the-bottle that didn’t even count.  Technically this one wouldn’t count either, but. 

He lets Darren pout for a few seconds before he shakes his head, laughing again.  “It was nice,” he confesses finally.  “Not that I have much to compare it to.  Middle-school girls taste like strawberry lipgloss.”

Darren nods sagely.  “College girls do too most of the time.”

Chris barely raises an eyebrow before Darren leans closer, clarifying, “No preference.”

Nodding slowly, automatically, Chris considers this.  Another new part of living so far away from Clovis, another part of Darren that makes him curious, makes him want to keep him talking for a long time.

Pursing his lips, Chris says half-joking, “Except for me, right?”

The crease between his eyebrows disappears and Darren’s hands fall out of his pockets.  “Huge preference for you,” he agrees, and Chris rolls his eyes, takes his hand.

He’ll make this one count.

*

“I can’t watch this,” Chris moans for the hundredth time, face pressed to his knees and arms wrapped around his head.

Darren laughs, clicking and typing.  “Why not?  Our first kiss is like, _immortalized_.  That’s cool as shit.”

He can feel Darren sit back next to him, wiggling to get comfortable on the couch.  He doesn’t make any more attempts to pry Chris out of his ball, and finally Chris huffs and moves tentatively, peeking up over his knees.

The music in the video is nice.  It’s all in black and white, and there’s quick clips of each couple before the basis of the study flashes on the screen.

Chris squeaks quietly every time they appear on screen, smacking Darren for cooing when Chris-on-screen nervously asks what Darren does.

It’s a quick cut-together of every couple’s first lip touch, and as the video goes on to show the conclusion of every kiss but theirs, Chris is immensely relieved.  Until--

_“Your ears are bright red.  It’s so cute.”_

Darren laughs, delighted, and Chris grabs the throw pillow behind his back to smack Darren repeatedly until their _fucking endless_ second kiss finally does, their shared laugh finally fading to a black screen as credits roll up from the bottom.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Chris moans, falling over onto the rest of the unoccupied couch.  “If this goes viral my mom will literally never let me hear the end of it.”

“First _and_ second kiss,” Darren whistles, obviously not paying attention to his dramatics.  “And we ended the video! We’re fucking awesome.”

“Shut up,” Chris whines.  “Ten million views already? I’m so fucked.”

“Hey, look at the bright side,” Darren says, gentle but insistent hands pulling at Chris’s wrists, then elbows, then shoulders until he’s got Chris settled in his lap.

“What?” Chris asks wryly, running his fingers through Darren’s curls and smiling at how he lolls his head back.

“We can recreate it whenever we want,” Darren says, huge grin overtly suggestive.  Chris leans back to groan at the ceiling before kissing Darren hard to shut him up.


End file.
